The Edge of Somewhere

Those People

Thu, 30 May 2024 00:00:00 +0000

I’ve had various versions of this post in draft for months; it’s not that I have nothing to consider or say on what’s happening in Gaza, it’s just that anything I’ve written seems so insufficient in scope and understanding. Equally, I feel my words are just a whisper in the wind especially when so many are speaking forcefully against the war to apparently little effect. However, I had a conversation with a friend yesterday about the nature of evil in the world; it’s so commonplace now and those who commit even the most egregious crimes face few consequences (or are promoted and lauded instead). I have to say something. It may not alter one bit of what’s going on elsewhere; but, if for nothing else, it’s for my own spirit and the few people who read this who might take a moment more to consider.

Microdosing Heroism

Mon, 28 Jun 2021 00:00:00 +0000

I’m, perhaps ironically considering we’ve just gone into lockdown in Sydney, thinking this morning of the thousand small interactions we have with others. Each of these, no matter how brief or seemingly inconsequential, provide some opportunity to change the course of one’s own and the other person’s day (or, I suppose in a larger sense, can have an impact on the rest of our lives). I don’t want to make that thought too grand as it would be exhausting to carry around and have it at the forefront of our consciousness wherever we go (especially in an urban environment where one has so many fleeting encounters each day). However, I think there is some space, especially in difficult times, to be more aware of and for each other with compassion and intent.

The Essential

Mon, 13 Apr 2020 00:00:00 +0000

Before I begin writing about this, I want to acknowledge, while there is much discussion about the pandemic as a shared catastrophe, it will obviously fall upon us all in very different ways. I’m writing from relatively ‘safe’ Australia where, despite initial fumbles, the authorities and public have quickly adopted measures that seem to have warded off at least the initial hard impact of the virus. Yes, at the biological level we are all equally at risk; however the mitigation of that risk is vastly different depending on your location and/or socioeconomic status. Also, even within the societies that have prepared well and are taking adequate measures, the economic fallout from this will be significant (and ‘significant’ seems too muted a word). I’ve retained full employment and am able to readily work from home; that’s not the case for a tremendous number of people who either can’t do this or who are currently stood down from work in an industry that has closed shop for the duration.

Everything arises out of silence

Wed, 08 Jan 2020 00:00:00 +0000

I often consider the tumult of this world—both the outer and inner turmoil that seems to pervade the lives of many people. However, nearly everything ‘outside’ this one small planet is silence. The primary function of the Universe is silence. We are the rarity; I think it’s not so much that life is rare, but perhaps the more significant rarity is the situation of a whole system in which sound is generated and received. We have a place where those vibrations can emerge and we can be a witness.

Democracy Inaction

Fri, 03 Jan 2020 00:00:00 +0000

I have, along with everyone else in Sydney, spent the last month and more dealing with smoke from bushfires across the state. This is however, obviously not the worst of the national disaster we are now in the midst of as there are countless families who have been burnt out or displaced in rural areas and even some suburbs of cities, millions of animals dead with some pushed to the edge of extinction from habitat loss, and over 5,900,000 hectares (15,000,000 acres) of forest and bushland up in smoke. The relentless news of this ‘new normal’ is really starting to wear on me (as is the heat; I did have plans to do some small projects and travel over the holidays but find myself just escaping in my flat under fans or A/C). Also, the places I was thinking of going are either on fire or blocked from road closure and evacuation. What are we to do other than taking short showers and having a bucket under us as we do? This afternoon I wrote my local MP, Linda Burney about my concerns. I’ve met her a couple times and know that these sentiments are already what she advocates for in Canberra; but I think it’s important as a citizen of what’s ostensibly a functioning democracy to voice them regardless:

The art of

Sun, 16 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000

I’ve had much to reflect on this past week; first, I went to Melbourne to attend a special service for the father of my friend Martha who passed away recently. In the Armenian Church, there is a service forty days after death to mark the significance of passing. The Armenians were one of the first established Christian communities many centuries ago so the ritual of their worship is ancient and grounded (and notably abundant in incense). Though the entire service was in a language I did not comprehend, there is so much experiential material in ritual and song that the narrative itself wasn’t so important. We attended the passing of time and life in a way that takes, perhaps, so many centuries to form and express. I think there is something to be said for the old ways that are sometimes more able to hold these moments.

Regarding that thing and some facts

Fri, 06 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000

This was published in the Morganown, WV Dominion Post yesterday. It’s my rebuttal to a letter to the editor from the day prior. The writer of the original letter claimed, as is so often erroniously repeated in America when this is mooted, that Australia has become a free-for-all of criminality and fear since the National Firearms Agreement. I will grant that Australia and America have very different underlying cultures that don’t make particular decisions on this immediately parallel; however, if you are going to posit an argument, you have to work from the facts.

Art, Pizza, Annihilation

Sun, 18 Mar 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Last night I watched Alex Garland’s new film Annihilation; I remember seeing the trailer some months ago and, as it was portrayed as potentially just another ’the team goes in; creepy things happen; most die’ scenario, I didn’t pay much interest. However, I’ve read a few articles on it since and, as it’s gone straight to Netflix, it was a ready choice (and it was Saturday night after a day of overtime work).

Violation and Liberation

Sat, 21 Oct 2017 00:00:00 +0000

My parent’s house was recently robbed. I’m unsure how passive to make that sentence; should I instead say that my father was robbed? That he and I were? I think it’s most appropriate to say that the house itself was robbed—that the casualty is ultimately a sense of home and safety. Dad is, understandably, rattled and having to go through all the process of protecting his identity (they stole a load of paperwork). Unfortunately, they also stole my mother’s jewellery, grandfather’s watch, and other sentimental items.

The story makes the world

Sun, 24 Sep 2017 00:00:00 +0000

I studied film production in University; our directing teacher was the venerable Dr Katherine Stenholm. One day in class she made this statement about filmmaking which, at the time, seemed ludicrous, “We make reality.” To my young indoctrinated mind, that was beyond our human capacity; God made reality and it was so. However, I’ve grown to understand more of the nuance of what she meant. This morning I read George Monbiot’s excellent Weekly Review article in this week’s Guardian. His title and premise is, It’s time to tell a new story if we want to change the world. He articulates much of what I’ve been ruminating recently about our individual and collective need for a better story from which we live.

On reading Hillbilly Elegy

Sun, 10 Sep 2017 00:00:00 +0000

There is a challenging pivot point between observations made as an ‘insider’ and those from an ‘objective’ outsider. Often the person on the inside is too close to the subject to speak comprehensively about a given matter; however, the outsider risks generalisations and fills gaps with assumptions based on limited knowledge. (I think this is where good journalism marries the two; a competent journalist can give voice to the insider who would otherwise not be heard.)

What kind of heritage?

Tue, 22 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000

I’m Appalachian. I’m specifically from West Virginia, which ‘sided’ with the North in the American Civil War; regardless, I consider myself ‘Southern.’ Each of the above are layers of identity and heritage. Above those labels I’m an American which, though we consider it some kind of concrete identity, is really so diverse an amalgamation as to defy any sort of compact definition. If anything, America, as I was raised to ideally understand it, is composed of dissimilar peoples who have come together in the United States. Our similarity is based on and strengthened by our diversity. My personal identity is expanded though by further experiences I’ve had in other places and cultures. In other words, my identity doesn’t come from existing in one place or only referencing that single place. Identity comes from an understanding of my place in the larger whole. It’s both looking back and forward, not something static and based wholly on the imagined past. It’s also tempered by an informed understanding of other people and their experiences. Neither my culture or my personal history have formed in isolation; before I can comprehend my own place in the story, I need to make the effort to properly ‘read’ that of others. Otherwise, I’ll have only a narrow and weakly formed identity based on my internal monologue.

Open Letter from Quakers Australia on Marriage Plebiscite

Thu, 17 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000

This was posted today as an open response to the Marriage Equality Plebiscite from Quakers Australia:

The Religious Society of Friends, commonly known as Quakers, supports the right of adult couples in loving and committed relationships to marry, regardless of gender. We also support the right of such couples to have their marriages accorded equal recognition and respect under the law of Australia.

Facebook:Disconnect

Sat, 12 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000

I’ve decided to leave Facebook. I’ve two primary reasons: first, I don’t think it’s allowing for the type of connection I want to build and maintain with my friends; second, it is frankly starting to creep me out.

Facebook, on the surface, has been a way to keep tabs on friends spread far across the world and reach back in time to maintain friendships from the past. However, I don’t find that I’m engaging with people in the considered way I need to on order to make these relationships substantive. I often feel I’m peering round the corners of connections as if looking through your living room window across the street. I have friends on Facebook with whom I’ve not communicated directly in a dozen years or more but from whom I receive regular updates on the state of their health and families, their travels, work, and major life decisions. Likewise, when I sporadically share something on Facebook, I often am either bringing out something very deep from my life in a passing way or making a comment on a specific situation that might not translate well to social media. In both cases, I’m sending or receiving a partial picture of life that isn’t making that essential connection in the way that I want or need with my friends—and I am feeling the lack of that in the process.

The homosexuals aren't coming for your children

Thu, 10 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000

This morning I received an email from Lyle Shelton, Managing Director of The Australian Christian Lobby. I have neither met Mr Shelton nor communicated with him in any way, yet he saw fit to send an email encouraging me, as a ‘‘Church Leader" to ‘‘activate’’ in response to the postal plebiscite on marriage equality. Mr Shelton did not contact me previously about aid for refugees fleeing to Australia from conflicts abroad; he did not contact me about the need for interfaith dialogue in a pluralistic society; he did not even contact me last week about an appropriate faith response to the homeless encampment in Martin Place. Mr Shelton has reached out, for the first time, about an issue he assumes must be the primary point of agreement that I, as a Quaker, have with the general community of Christians in Australia (namely that a sizable portion of Australian residents are less deserving of a given set of rights than ‘‘us’’).

Mother's Day Without

Sat, 13 May 2017 00:00:00 +0000

This has been a year of firsts which, inevitably after someone’s death, follows a year of lasts. This is the first mother’s day without my mother. The picture above is, I think, the last picture we had together. It was on a walk a few days before I returned to Australia in late April last year. By this time today in May, Mom was back in hospital with a recurrent infection. We had several walks like this in the time we had last April. On this one or another, we sat on a bench and she said that she was okay if she had to go—that she had lived a good life and was content with whatever was to come. I’m content too; I dearly miss her, but in some ways one can’t argue the point of contentment with a dying person. We bring who we are to this life and, if given that opportunity in our passing, we have first opinion in the matter as we go. I can try to rationalise a peace right now by considering how mom was going and the likelihood that, had she lived till now, she would probably be very ill, that her quality of life would be poor, etc. But, that’s almost beside the point. She wasn’t expressing contentment about dying just as an escape from pain; she was content because I think she genuinely felt she had a good life and was fulfilled in it. She said, of course, she wished she had more time but that would be the wish of anyone living a contented life. I’m just thankful she had the time and opportunity to express this as we transitioned through our lasts and firsts.

Remembering a Life of Joy

Wed, 01 Jun 2016 00:00:00 +0000

My mother passed away last week; I spoke at her funeral on Monday. When I began to write the words I would say, it was my intention to make a eulogy. However, I need someone to write to so rather than speak of her, I wrote to her in a letter. I placed a copy of this in her casket and read it at the funeral service.

Where are we again?

Tue, 26 Jan 2016 00:00:00 +0000

I’ve had several conversations in the past months with Australians whose families have been here for generations as well as more recent immigrants. I’m noting that Australia, and this is really generalising, does not offer a strong sense of common cultural identity. There just isn’t a critical mass of shared history, art, language and literature that acts as an underlying core for people to hold. In contrast to, say the UK, which can look back at a thousand years of ‘place’; regardless of who people are or where they come from they can have some sense of place in where they have arrived. This just isn’t apparent in Australia; the Aboriginal past is so completely wiped from the culture that even Aboriginal people struggle to grasp it—so that’s not a viable thread (and would not really be for the majority of people living here anyway). The Colonial history doesn’t offer much in the way of a positive underpinning to society either. I sense that, for the majority of white Australia, there is this general unease over one’s identity. It’s as if there is a projected form over the envelope of who they are that doesn’t quite fit.

The Perception of Danger and the Assumption of Safety

Wed, 19 Aug 2015 00:00:00 +0000

I woke Tuesday morning to the news that the Erawan Shrine in central Bangkok had been bombed; this is particularly poignant for me as I was at that shrine a week before to the day. I’m going to take care not to say ‘relevant’ for me as, frankly, other than the shared humanity I have with the victims, I am not really connected to the incident. I think there can be a bit of ‘adventure hubris’ in saying too eagerly, ‘yeah, I was right there man…well, a week before but, hey, close call wasn’t it?’

The argument for a diminished god

Fri, 10 Apr 2015 00:00:00 +0000

I’ve written a page in my notebook some time ago; it’s on my mind this morning as I sit awake, jet-lagged, in a Dallas airport hotel at two in the morning:

It seems to me that, deep in the kernel of ‘organised religion’ that this is the crux of conflict; it’s not that people have faith and disagree over this in general, it’s that people become obsessed with the power of their proclaimed god and, by extension, their own power. When that power is defamed or threatened, there is a vigorous response (all involving some kind of spiritual or physical violence to either oneself or the other). When that power remains unchecked, there is hubris and the entitlements of power.

The martyrdom of silence

Sun, 18 Jan 2015 00:00:00 +0000

There is much discussion about the need for better clarity and connection in ‘The World’. I’m sure that whatever future we have together will require more understanding and cohesion; however, I wonder, again, if we so much lack the ability to communicate or we have simply lost the capacity to be silent. On the news last night, after the arrests of several suspected terrorists in Belgium, an imam in the town they were from said, “I think, unfortunately, much of the radicalisation is taking place online now; it’s certainly not happening here in the mosque.” The problem may not be that people are isolated it’s that they are too filled with an infected language—and the spirit can only bear so much filling before it overflows into violence.

The Constant

Sat, 10 Jan 2015 00:00:00 +0000

I’ve just yesterday flown back to Sydney from a holiday in the States; as I left the country, the story of the attacks in Paris were unfolding and unfinished. Every news channel in the hotel displayed a barrage of information—’experts’ spoke of the social situation in France, issues over immigration and inculturation, economic pressures among migrants, dissatisfaction over political reforms, involvement of the French military in North Africa, the ‘War on Terror’, various riots in The Republic over the past years, the history of Colonial power, religions intolerance, religious tolerance, freedom of expression, temperance of that expression, a new device that can hold any smart phone in your car’s air vent, the upcoming Super Bowl, how the French government should respond, what mistakes were made by French Intelligence, the inevitable surveillance state, and so on.

The Mystic

Mon, 28 Jul 2014 00:00:00 +0000

I’m reading through old journals again; I wrote this in 1996 after holding a rare manuscript book from 1280. How did ancient scholars carry these words that were written and handed down so carefully over time?

He calls,
The Mystic to his Bride.
Her subtle voice returns,
Fixed into his eyes
As he in her remains.
He lifts her;
A gentle touch
Upon the ribs along her spine.
Her skin–still taught,
Though years of holding
Have formed wrinkles in her folds.
His time all spent
Beside her now.
His hands brush across her face.
He sees no age,
Yet, he stoops closer.
His eyes–grey.
In visions, he carries her,
As she does him.
His life upon her words.
And from their joining,
Two made one,
Come volumes yet unborn.

Giving in Time

Wed, 16 Jul 2014 00:00:00 +0000

My mother is in hospital at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore; she had, last Friday, major surgery to remove a rare cancerous tumour from deep within her liver. It was a very long and complex procedure that requires a surgeon of great skill and care surrounded by a hospital that can support the whole endeavour. The surgery itself went well and she is recovering now although she’s having some (expected) complications and challenges. I’ll write more about her journey through this in the coming weeks.

Coming by Sea to Hope and Distress

Thu, 01 May 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Wood that turns to stone,
That turns to bone
At the bottom of the sea;
Flotsam in the ocean,
Like the great raft
Of rubbish that is
Part of what we have
Discarded—too difficult
To address but distant enough
To ignore.

Pro patria mori

Fri, 25 Apr 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Today was ANZAC Day (the Australian Memorial Day); I’m conflicted over the concept of war memorial. Earlier this week, I made this photograph of a wood carving in the mezzanine at work (click on the image to see it larger). It was commissioned in the 1950’s by the Federation to commemorate teachers who served and died in World War I & II. It depicts a prone soldier holding what seems to be either a bouquet of some sort or perhaps a handful of grasses and what I assume is meant to be a Bible in the other hand. It’s not clear whether he is resting or is, indeed, dead; the text reads ‘He served in war that we might live in peace’. That’s debatable for WWI, where the Australians suffered a terrible defeat in far away Gallipoli (observed today); perhaps less so for WWII where they were directly at risk from Japanese invasion.

Misstep

Wed, 26 Feb 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Because an airplane flew overhead
At 4AM
I am awake.
It is the interconnectedness of all things;
Because, two days ago,
In an intersection somewhere
In Denver,
The flight mechanic responsible for this plane
That flew overhead
At 4AM,
Missed a stop sign and nearly
Ran over a pedestrian,
He was upset and, later that day,
Forgot to note he had repaired a minor problem in a pump.
But, when the plane landed in Fiji, the prudent pilot
Was concerned and had it checked.
This only took a moment;
But, because of this, they missed a take off window.
Whilst they were waiting, the engineer there noticed something else
That was critical and had to be repaired
Thus delaying the flight several hours and putting it in to Sydney
At 4AM; awaking a swath of sleeping suburbs.
Because of that pedestrian, who had paused for a moment
To greet a neighbour in Denver who had surgery some weeks ago.

On Difference

Sun, 15 Dec 2013 00:00:00 +0000

There is a special awareness that comes from reading old journals whilst jet-lagged; the words don’t seem any more profound, but the filter of strange tiredness certainly adds a layer of ‘did I write this? What was I thinking?’ which could be a positive or negative observation.

I wrote the notes below about ten years ago when considering how a very conservative religious institution (I had my former university in mind) could open a discussion on racial diversity. Much of this would apply to ethnic or interfaith conversations as well. All, of course, presupposes a level of openness to begin with.

Tidal Surge

Wed, 04 Sep 2013 00:00:00 +0000

I woke early this morning and found this essay I wrote about six years ago for the Spiritual Activism course in my Human Ecology program at Strathclyde; we were asked to write a justification for enrolling in the course. No answers to the questions have presented themselves but the narrative still unfolds.

I am the product of a place, a people, a culture and the religious thought that bind these together. This idea was easily established in my thinking; however, it has taken some time to unravel the meaning of it. I’ve felt, at times, part of some grand American Destiny; but that destiny, parsed out, does not ﬁt nicely back together again. Indeed, though Americans speak often about the core history of our nation, there is little practical evidence of this history playing itself out in daily life. The perception of common aims; the meaning of place and community; the content and concept of culture; the course and character of these societal supports are now subtly altered (e.g. our “Founding Fathers” were mostly men of the Enlightenment; strangely, they have become paragons of religious piety and defenders of The Faith).

Smaller Faith

Tue, 28 May 2013 00:00:00 +0000

A couple months ago I was visited by a pair of Jehovah’s Witnesses at the door (again). We had a conversation that really didn’t go where they wanted it to go (it rather dulls their efforts if the person they are speaking with has actually read and studied the Bible and already has some thoughts about its ramifications). However, they were pleasant enough and we had what seemed like the necessary dialogue. At one point, one of them asked if I was a person of faith. I said, “Yes, I’m a Quaker.” She paused with a bemused expression. It was a cross between now, who are the Quakers again? and we should probably make a hasty retreat down the street; he’s some kind of cult member!

Some Are Evergreen

Thu, 02 Aug 2012 00:00:00 +0000

I’m still sorting through a lot of old files and letters; I wrote this from New York in 1999.
It is Sunday morning, the last day of October. Somewhere in the city beyond (and beyond the city) one Person is awake and thinking; he wants to build a shelf for the closet—his Wife has too many hats. One Woman has forgotten where she put her slippers; her dog remembers, though he tears one slightly at a seam. One Man is lifting up a potted plant for the Lady across the counter; His Father was a florist in Brussels. One Minister is Praying over his sermon; some of the youth will not appreciate it, some of the deacons disapprove, some of the elders speak thoughtlessly over coffee—one Woman and two Men will change the direction of their lives. One Boy is waiting in the hamper to frighten his Sister when she walks into the room; their Parents work late and sleep still. One Father Kisses his Wife and Daughter good morning; he has to work today at his newsstand. One Man is cold on the sidewalk with a group of Friends, their breath steams with the life of speaking. Outside their windows this river flowing by becomes quickly an ocean—carrying leaves from the front of my window. All my faceless leaves and these People who are formless from this room, yet speak and pray or remain silent—these fragments form a whole of unknown parts. Someone rings a bell in the distance. All those people are happening at this one moment; their actions and decisions behind those actions move them along to the next moment…the next, the next, yet they are all here in this one space of time. My fingers tap out words for them and the next moment comes.

Speaking from the silence

Sun, 08 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000

I attended Quaker meeting this morning; somewhere down the street a group of high spirited people had either a very late night party from Saturday or an early start to this evening. As we Quakers attempted to sit in silence, our neighbors worshiped to techno and modern ballads (there was a story about questing for ‘booty’…perhaps something involving pirates).

Freedom from want

Thu, 05 Jan 2012 00:00:00 +0000

There are two contradictory maxims enshrined in ‘our’ world:

It is my purpose to desire and acquire more,
I am free from material responsibility.

Last month, I spotted the sign above in a Sydney clothing store. It’s the hybrid of these two statements; but like many man-made hybrids, it can’t live at ease with itself and carries its own maladies.

Voices of the Living and the Dead

Sat, 26 Nov 2011 00:00:00 +0000

These past days, since I wrote my last post, I’ve further considered the active voice, what is it that I have to say and how can I equip others to speak their stories? I am, at this moment, the most equipped I’ve ever been to do this. In my ‘day job’ at the Teachers Federation I’ve created a full production suite and recording studio. This will allow me to pull in all manner of interesting folks and amplify the stories they have to tell.

Passive Voice, Active Voice

Thu, 24 Nov 2011 00:00:00 +0000

I’m considering my voice—not my physical voice, but my ability to speak out to others and what means I have at hand to do so. I am, by nature, a quiet person and usually reluctant to speak or intervene. This might not readily change; I don’t think I’ll ever be the ‘in your face’ contender out on the frontline. But I do need to understand the bounds and abilities of my voice and use it wisely.
Last week I read several news articles relating to weapons, war, video games (playing at war) and the general glorification of violence as a social norm. I think we need to pause for consideration when a new battle simulation video game garners nearly $800 million in its first two days of sale in a time when there is such a need for the ending of wars and fostering peace. I know video games are the easy end of the spectrum to speak about, ‘oh, you know what happens when kids play those violent video games’. I’m not sure I do; but, regardless of what the games in themselves encourage in people’s minds, I do know that ‘actual war’ is increasingly engaged through the medium of a computer screen rather than in person. There are still troops on the ground facing real risk; but the movement is toward a sterile press the button and the figures on the screen are dead warfare. One of the other articles I read last week was about a new cruise missile in the US that can be launched from the States and basically target anything in the world within an hour. Soon, like an online multiplayer game, our wars may be fought by telecommuters at home in their socks.

Spiritual Autobiography

Wed, 29 Sep 2010 00:00:00 +0000

This is simultaneously an ideal and what I’m attempting to live out in this life. I am not always so sure of the reality of it; but I must affirm something and strive to keep it true. I hope for nothing less than to fully discover humanity and spirituality in this—though that discovery is sometimes painful if it’s complete. I speak below about scars and wounds, about how I heal and want to heal others. But it’s becoming clear to me that the deepest scars are those self-inflicted ones and the wounds we must first heal in others are those we have given them. Otherwise, these are all just pleasant words on a page. A spirituality that lacks that awareness and action is wholly destructive.
At one time, not so long ago, I would have described myself as a religious person. I was comfortable in that—not really proud or self-righteous, I just felt that God had blessed me by putting me in with the right people (it was a faith of polarities; everyone else was obviously wrong). I was at a time in my life where I needed physical and psychological order. I wanted to be in a place where I knew exactly what was expected of me and how others would react and behave in any given situation. This is something I’ve realised in retrospect and, had I known and been able to discern the underlying motivations at the time, I may have made different decisions. However, these were the decisions of dogmatic youth and perhaps to be expected in the life of a seeker.

Is God Scarce?

Thu, 22 Jul 2010 00:00:00 +0000

“The quest for inner knowledge is rarely a popular one. It is too far afield of common interests and arouses the suspicion of those who fear and hate anything beyond their own horizons.” —Richard Smoley from Inner Christianity
What do you consider valuable? Is it something limited and precious or unlimited and boundless? Is it a thing that can be counted and sequestered away, hoarded and kept under lock, or not a ‘thing’ at all? What is the value of your spirit? What price would you put on God? Can we somehow lose either or are our essential possessions inseparable from us?

Journalist Citizens

Mon, 17 May 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Since my return from India I’ve given much thought to the role photographers and journalists play in world events—or, perhaps that’s not the scale I’m considering—what is our role and responsibility to the individuals we document? This is not a novel question; it’s standard in the curriculum of J-schools everywhere and is (or should be) a primary consideration for any journalist of integrity. However, I’m trying to codify it for myself and make clear what I’m attempting when working with vulnerable people.
I’ve had a profitable discussion with David Wells over the past weeks; David is a former teacher of mine and experienced photojournalist. I suggested we might compose a code of conduct—a sort of Hippocratic Oath for photographers (again, not an original idea but one that might be revisited as the nature of journalism changes). I think it important that, as we travel into communities where we have free reign to work (often without thorough question of our motives), we clearly state our purpose and intent. We may not always fulfil that ideal but neither can a physician always save his or her patient. Journalism and medicine involve a careful balance of skill and serendipity; both carry the opportunity for healing as well as harm.

In Memorium

Mon, 14 Sep 2009 00:00:00 +0000

I just found out that my audio recorder is, alas, dead (and will cost most of the price of a replacement to fix). Unfortunately, as with seemingly everything electronic, this means that I’ll not have it repaired but get something new.
Oh, HHB MDP-500 Portadisc recorder,
You travelled with me around the world and back.
So many hours of interviews and lectures
You dutifully recorded.
You took in various dodgy electrical voltages
And ran without complaint in heat or ice.
You rode in the back seat on washed out roads
And were with me that time in the Cessna
In the DRC
When the pilot told us about the pistol
In the compartment
In case the plane went down.
Those were the days; I knew you had no fear.
Remember when that careless customs official
Broke your original leatherette carrier?
I bought you a sturdy Porta-Brace case
Made in Vermont
So you would be safe.
You used a funky storage format that is now
Nearly forgotten
And you’ve been surpassed by your solid state brethren.
You did so much good in your short life,
Recording all that material for various Not-for-Profit organisations.
I hope,
In whatever existence you have in the Beyond,
You are justly rewarded.
I shall remember you fondly.
Yet still I must ask…
How my equipment built thirty years ago still plugs along
And everything from the past ten
Is a bit iffy?
But, of course, the field recorder from thirty years ago
Weighs as much as a small motorcycle
And cannot also play my .mp3 files.

Going on with purpose

Mon, 15 Jun 2009 00:00:00 +0000

First: Yes, still sore (will look into therapy this week after getting more of the insurance sorted).
Several people have asked how I’m doing psychologically; I think I’m okay considering everything that’s happened. I’m getting a little weary of talking about it (however, at least I can talk about it; that’s supposedly a good sign). It was a little difficult the other night here in my parent’s annual neighbourhood block party. I felt obliged to relate the story over and again; it’s just difficult to discuss what happened casually over a beer and roast pork. Also, people don’t quite know how to respond. The usual route is to relate either their own or another accident story. This is an attempt at empathy, which I appreciate; however, it doesn’t really do much to relieve the stress or trauma of my own situation. I mentioned this difficulty to a friend and she said, “You can always say you’d rather not talk about it.” This is a power I think I’ll need to invoke in the incoming weeks.

Trauma T1571

Tue, 09 Jun 2009 00:00:00 +0000

For a short time yesterday I did not have a name; I was Trauma T1571 at the Cumberland Memorial Hospital in Cumberland, Maryland. Before that, I was flown by helicopter off of Highway 68 Westbound. Before that, I was strapped to a backboard and given an IV. Before that, I was cut out of a car with giant pneumatic pincers. Before that, I had a man holding me immobile and shielding my face and legs from the tools the firemen were using to extract me. Before that, a bystander reached his hand through the smashed window just to hold mine and speak with me. Before that I was in the worst car accident I can imagine. By all apparent rights, I should not be typing this right now.

2008 Big Tent Festival

Wed, 30 Jul 2008 00:00:00 +0000

Last weekend I attended the Big Tent Festival Scotland’s Festival of Stewardship (seemed like an apt place to research my dissertation topic). I basically wandered around the festival sticking a microphone in people’s faces and asking about their concept of stewardship. There were some surprising answers (one of the exhibitors had no idea what a steward is; she thought it was just the person directing traffic at a football game). Most people though had some personalised concept of stewardship (either they thought of themselves as stewards or could verbalise what the responsibilities of a steward would be).
In a discussion with one of my professors (sitting by hay bales at the organic food stall), I had a bit of an epiphany concerning my research; at the outset, I had hoped to come up with a definitive definition of stewardship—something that would be applicable in any context. However, it is such a personalised concept that this might not be either possible or desirable. It’s rather like discussions on faith; if you are dogmatic and say it is just this one thing and nothing else, the discussion becomes closed and static. If one allows an “amorphous” definition of stewardship that can evolve and become personalised, everyone can come to the table and share in the idea.

A turbine for the community

Tue, 29 Jul 2008 00:00:00 +0000

This is the second discussion session I attended at Friday’s Transition Town meeting.
A community wind farm turbine purchase
This session was on the community purchase of a wind turbine in a new development in Fintry (Scotland). A developer approached the community with a plan to build a 14 turbine wind farm; the community proposed an additionality that they would purchase a 15th turbine and receive income from the electricity generated. They found funding and purchased the turbine for £2.5 million (turbine was originally expected to pay itself off in roughly 15 years; however, as electricity prices are increasing, the return on investment time is growing shorter. It will, again depending on electricity prices, generate an income of £50 to £100,000 a year till it is paid off then £400,000 to £500,000 a year for the community).

Think before consuming

Tue, 29 Jul 2008 00:00:00 +0000

Over the past few days I’ve been at The Big Tent: Scotland’s Festival of Stewardship. On Friday, before the festival started, I attended a Transition Towns meeting. I’ll present notes from two discussions; first is a conversation about consumer culture:
Think before consuming
The session was mainly concerned with how to raise awareness about waste and energy involved with the production and packaging of “plastic rubbish” (this term was used several times through the conversation to indicate anything from flat-pac furniture to toys that are used briefly and then thrown out). We considered the social implications of becoming “that mother who doesn’t want her children to give or receive gifts from the store” and what misunderstandings and opportunities might arise from taking a “non-consumer” or contrarian stance on this issue.

The Call of the Suburb

Mon, 12 May 2008 00:00:00 +0000

Here is an excerpt from an essay I’ve just finished for the Ecopsychology module of my MSc in Human Ecology.
“The soil and the pavement grow different crops, even though the soil is cut up into minute suburban plots.” – Harlan Paul Douglass

One Step Removed
Perhaps humans were never meant to live in cities; arguments against are based on the theory of our evolution in small groups—that these cannot be scaled to a metropolis. (Rees, 37-40) However, counter-arguments propose we can construct cities as groupings of small self-contained communities that mimic our evolutionary background (see Ackoff on his model for new urban design). Some contend our only “natural” living space is the countryside; yet the countryside as we know it is almost always a man-made (or heavily altered) construct. If one considers the countryside a wild place, one might imagine the suburb as a happy middle-ground—not urban, not wild, but a median of the two. However, in this paper I will propose the suburb is perhaps the most unnatural amalgam of environments we have yet devised. In the city, we can at least see some shadow of our prior organisation into small communities with shared space for common use. In the country, we often organise into groups that provide mutual benefit (farm collectives, fire brigades, etc.). However, the suburbs tend to separate out each family or individual into an isolated unit (an isolated unit that relies heavily on outside resources for maintenance). If one is habituated into such an environment where everything and everyone is siloed off into discreet controlled elements, what is the psychological impact? This essay will briefly explore this and some reasons behind the growth of contemporary suburbs.

Community

Sun, 04 May 2008 00:00:00 +0000

I’m a few days back now from the Isle of Eigg (one of the small Hebridean Islands; 7,400 acres with about 80 people—and a stunningly beautiful landscape). We were there for a core course on the MSc.
There is a lot I could (and probably should) write concerning our visit there; one of the primary reasons we visit Eigg is to observe the workings of a small community—how they interact with each other and their environment. I’m supposed to be able to parse this all out and write about it; however, as I’m becoming more aware of issues of legitimacy (the “who am I to come in here and think I can tell these people anything” question) and just generally sensitive to the spirit of a place, I feel less inclined to write (probably not the best reaction on an academic course!). I think I’m better able to experience a place and appreciate it than I’ve ever been before (and keep in mind that I’ve now had a lot of training to do this). But am I competent to tell someone else’s story; this is the question I am working through. (This is one of my learning edges for the course.)

Gaia Embodied in a Voice too Soft to Hear

Tue, 08 Apr 2008 00:00:00 +0000

I wrote the first stanzas of this several weeks ago and finished the last few in the wilderness of Knoydart (I think there is a “missing” stanza yet to come). Here is a .pdf of the poem with proper formatting: Gaia Embodied.pdf
In the MSc course I’m on, we’ve spoken much about finding voice—about trying to find words to relate the human condition. I believe poetry is the language one uses to express what can’t be said with words.

Excerpts from Spiritual Activism Essay

Mon, 10 Mar 2008 00:00:00 +0000

I finished an essay last evening for my Spiritual Activism Course; it’s entitled Blessings: The Beginning of Conflict Resolution. Here are some excerpts:
What is the root cause of conflict? Perhaps that is too large a topic to explore in a brief essay; What instead is the essential component of peace? When we hone peace to its “beginnings”, what do we find at the core? In many languages, a curse is considered the most powerful utterance available. Unfortunately, curses (or the words of conflict in general) also seem to be readily translatable into all dialects (and, for that matter, our curses are translated into the “language of nature” as our ideas and action have direct bearing on the environment). From local disagreement between individuals to vast conflicts between nations, the world is inundated with curses; yet, despite the richness of language, we lack ready words for harmony. This is partially a linguistic barrier; however, there is also little overarching structure that reaches across languages and ideologies to fill a common human need for blessing. I submit that most conflict is essentially language based and the point beyond a curse is often conflict.

Because of Violence (essay)

Thu, 21 Feb 2008 00:00:00 +0000

In conjunction with yesterday’s poem, I’ve also submitted an interpretative essay on the writing process. I’ll not post the entire essay; however, here is a condensed version that outlines my rationale:
Having personally observed violent societies, spoken to victims of violence, and witnessed innumerable real and imagined acts of violence in the media—I have begin to consider potential remedies; what are the root causes? What is it about humans that give us this tendency toward violence? Is it innate or a learned activity? Last year, I began drafting a manifesto of sorts laying out my thoughts on the topic (with the aim to eventually expand the precepts into a book-length work). However, while the document is clear in its proposals, it lacks a certain vigour. For instance, the third proposal (which becomes canto three in the poem) states:

Because of Violence

Wed, 20 Feb 2008 00:00:00 +0000

This is part of a “creative assignment” for the MSc; we’ve been asked to produce a piece that speaks to an environmental or social issue. Alas, according of the vagaries of HTML, most of my utterly keen typesetting for this poem will be lost; some things are still better kept on paper. Here is a .pdf version of the poem with the intended formatting: Because of Violence
One
Because the world is a place of violence
—All life has value
What is the root of violence;
In what soil does it grow?
It taps down and breaks through the clay of life,
—Bodies and Earth alike
It grows—perversely alive, but is the end of living.

Renewing Soil and Society

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 00:00:00 +0000

This is an essay for my Food Culture and Agriculture Course. It’s not my best writing ever; however, it has given me opportunity to coalesce some prior thoughts (avid readers will note some hints of material from earlier weblog posts).
There are any number of criticisms one can raise concerning agriculture; there are also arguments that we have larger issues at hand to consider. However, I would propose the primary concern of any society is agricultural. Without the production of food; society ceases to exist; agriculture and its corollary components are the base of human existence. Until the Industrial Revolution, the world was based on agrarian societies. We planned our years based on agricultural cycles; we lived near the soil. Now we think of soil as something dirty. It is something dead and dusty that gets tracked into the house and must be vacuumed up and disposed of. At best, we look upon soil as an inert medium in which we grow plants (and will at least deign to have some inside for houseplants). As our societies and religions evolved in close connexion with agriculture, they have an innate link to the soil. If this connexion is dismissed or severed, the base substance of societal cohesion and faith will suffer. Without the regeneration of soil, agriculture is impossible; arguably, without the human-soil connexion, our connexion to the earth and each other is diminished. In order to find a truly sustainable agriculture and society, all these elements must be considered.

Illusions of Humanity

Wed, 02 Jan 2008 00:00:00 +0000

This is a comparative essay written for my course on Henry David Thoreau’s Walden and Free to be Human by David Edwards.

Humans make reality; or, rather, we build our society and psychology based on notions of what reality is or should be. These notions are generally understood to come from individuals; the citizens of a “free” country are the masters of their own destinies. They are capable of making decisions that shape everyday life and the future. Thoreau and Edwards contend the issue is more complex. In Walden, Thoreau proposes these decisions cannot be made freely unless the individual chooses a life and manner of thinking that allows for freedom; a century and a half later in Free to be Human, Edwards questions whether the structure of society and economics allows for intellectual freedom at all.

More Stuff

Sat, 22 Dec 2007 00:00:00 +0000

It’s Christmas shopping time and most everything is crap. Sorry, might as well say it; most of the stuff wrapped in boxes and mountains of paper is either poorly made or made for only a season of use. The electronic thing you buy will be obsolete before next year so you can buy another one. The toy is for 7-10 year olds; your nephew will be 11 next year and will want something else. Clothing might last a little longer but is subject to the whims of fashion.

Sound and silence

Tue, 11 Dec 2007 00:00:00 +0000

I have never tolerated loud noise. As a child, I would cover my ears when someone was using a hammer or power tool; today I wear earplugs whilst using the vacuum. I’m just very sensitive to sound.

Urban environments are full of sound; they are not full of sound, of course, in the same sense that a forest is. The city is full of inescapable noise. This is mainly because cities have become places for cars to congregate and traverse, not places for people to live and walk about in. Pedestrians are usually pushed off to the side surrounding traffic and get secondary consideration.

Living by Metaphor

Tue, 06 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000

We had last week the first session of Food Culture and Agriculture, a course on how societies view the growth of food and the customs that surround it. “Customs” here are far-reaching; we are not merely discussing table customs, but the cycles of consumption and waste that are necessarily connected to our “modern” food “industry” (perhaps food should also be in quotes as the pre-packaged frozen salted preserved irradiated bar-coded best-by dated substance purchased in the supermarket bears little resemblance to what was once considered cuisine).

Words come back around

Wed, 31 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000

This was written by my friend Sara; it’s so good, I’m re-posting it here:
When I Find the One that Likes Me Too

Instead of hours, on and on,
over pints, or through the park
about my Past,
I’ll take you to SkateLand, where we will couple’s skate,
skirting the fallen, popular tweens, one standing, the other,
a half-circle Sit-N-Spin on the seat of jeans

Abusive Viewpoint

Fri, 12 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000

Earlier this week, As part of the Scottish Mental Health Arts and Film Festival, the Centre for Contemporary Art hosted a day-long seminar on using the arts to work with youth experiencing mental health issues. I attended several discussions and workshops; Lorenzo Mele, of 7:84 Theatre Company Scotland led a brief workshop on producing collaborative drama (or Forum Theatre…this is “of the oppressed week” for me as we are reading Pedagogy of the Oppressed for my MSc and I am now reading Augusto Boal’s Theatre of the Oppressed from which forum theatre is based). After the workshop, Lorenzo invited me to a performance today at The Tron, a theatre here in the city.

Shame

Mon, 27 Aug 2007 00:00:00 +0000

For most of human history (or, “civilised” human history, if you like) the most disappointing thing one could do would be to shame one’s ancestors. To break family honour or lose face in society was (and still generally is) a terrible matter. To have a parent or close relative say, “You have shamed us all” could send a person into a downward turn for the rest of his or her life (which may be spent in psychological or physical exile depending on the severity of the transgression).

These violent connexions

Wed, 18 Apr 2007 00:00:00 +0000

On Monday I went with some friends to Lidice, north of Prague. After the NAZI regime annexed Czechoslovakia and set up a “protectorate” state, the Czechs assassinated the leader of the party, Reinhard Heydrich (who, in a public speech, had openly stated that the Bohemian and Moravian lands were to be eliminated and the entire area was to become Germany. Heydrich was one of the main architects of the Holocaust).

Visit to Center for Human Ecology

Wed, 28 Feb 2007 00:00:00 +0000

I returned on Monday night from a several day stay in Glasgow; I was there to check out the Centre for Human Ecology at the University of Strathclyde as I’m looking into a Masters in Human Ecology (would be a two year commitment).
From the CHE website:

Human Ecology is about uncovering and understanding the connections between personal action, social systems and the ecology of the planet of which we are part. The challenge is to critically examine the way things are and to ask why and how they could be different; to find new and better ways of arranging our lives, our businesses and our societies; ways that reduce poverty and inequality, reduce the amount of resources we use, restore the environment and improve quality of life for all – now and for generations to come.

Blessings

Fri, 02 Feb 2007 00:00:00 +0000

I remembered an occurrence today; it happened a few years ago when I was leading a cross-cultural team in Bulgaria. We were waking through a mountain town on a very hot day and came upon an old Muslim woman. She brought us all cold water and chatted a bit with Vlady (our Bulgarian logistics fellow).
As we left, she said something that returns often in my memory:
“May all your villages be blessed.”

The Interface

Thu, 18 Jan 2007 00:00:00 +0000

This is my take on Ubiquitous Computing.
For the past several weeks, I’ve mused on some sort of system that would allow collaboration between urban planners, politicians, and citizens of large cities. This would be a system that would allow people in a given city to readily reference what they are doing to address any one issue; people in other cities would have open access to this knowledge and would work collaboratively on shared solutions.

One person is tomorrow

Thu, 28 Dec 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Humans hold a paradoxical view of culture (by “culture” I mean the encompassing sphere of human thought: the arts, political systems, religion, economics, and so on). On one hand, we tend to view both history and the future through the eyes of our current culture; as if culture has not changed for some very long time and is unlikely to change for some time more. Such a myopic view robs us of history’s wisdom and binds us to a pre-packaged determined future. Concurrently, we also view past and future culture as something vastly different than the current human experience. Our forebearers (noting even the separation of one generation to the next) lived lives so different than our own that their experiences and accumulated knowledge are invalid for the present. Future generations will encounter a world so changed from this one that we may not even speculate their circumstances. Of course, neither of these views is entirely satisfactory; but both are necessary to address our current situation and plan for the future.

Good Science

Tue, 12 Dec 2006 00:00:00 +0000

A few weeks ago, while visiting my parents, I read a guest commentary by Jeffrey Jarrett in their local newspaper. Mr. Jarrett is the assistant secretary of the Office of Fossil Energy in the U.S. Department of Energy. The same commentary was apparently printed in multiple newspapers around the country (see here, here, or here). His article warrants debate; my response follows:

Consumers

Wed, 22 Nov 2006 00:00:00 +0000

I’ve no illusions that my words or actions will wholesale save or destroy the world. Despite the “single-handed hero” concept promoted in our literature and film, I doubt that any one person can have such power. No one person, no matter how great their goodness or malevolence, can move the mechanism of Earth and society in such a grand manner. However, there are people who have great power and influence over many; their actions and ideas will, as a consequence of the authority we afford them, form the course for a certain future. I am pessimistic concerning the health of our world and society. It’s not that there are too many people for the world to support; thought that is a concern. It’s not that we may have irreparably damaged the environment; though that is also a concern. There are a litany of recognisable and evident “problems” we can list that will “end life as we know it.” My concern is that, “life as we know it” may not be such a good thing to promote.
Recently, at a trade summit in Asia, President Bush (addressing President Hu Jintao of China) made this statement:

People in their places

Sun, 12 Nov 2006 00:00:00 +0000

This is the genesis of an essay I plan to write over the incoming week. (I’m posting it online more to spur me on in the process than to inform everyone of impending profundity.) The writing and editing of this curriculum spreads good seed in my head; this is part of the Discovering Your Culture session.

Writing across borders

Sat, 26 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000

I’ve been indirectly involved with Atlantic Bridge for the past two years (beginning at a curriculum development workshop in Liberec, Czech Republic). My initial contact with AB came through Drs. Nathan Corbitt and Vivian Nix-Early of BuildaBridge International. Nathan and Vivian have consulted on the curriculum from the beginning and usually oversee the writer’s workshops. I am the Director of Communications for BuildaBridge; through a series of meetings concerning media planning and development, I was asked by Atlantic Bridge to come to the Netherlands for a short term and concentrate specifically on revising and finishing the Bridgebuilder curriculum. My professional training is in cinema production; however, I have moved increasingly toward communications consulting with a focus on writing and information design and welcome the opportunity to work on a project such as this.

Bridgebuilders Nutshell

Thu, 24 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000

I am currently revising a cross-cultural youth curriculum for Atlantic Bridge in the Netherlands. I was asked yesterday to write a one-page summary of the concept for general distribution.

The mission of Atlantic Bridge is to connect young people living in a climate of conflicting worldviews so they can develop personal expression and faith through cross-cultural friendships. Our primary way of doing this is through the “Bridgebuilders” concept. We combine a balanced cultural understanding with the mission of building bridges of friendship and faith. A fourteen lesson curriculum is the training method; while international festivals and other events co-ordinated by Atlantic Bridge bring young people face to face. As we work with high school students, we are careful not to make this heavily intellectual or theoretical, but rather a practical and experiential learning tool. Our aim is to make a targeted curriculum that prepares youth for the realities of a multi-cultural society; we equip youth to become the next generation of “complete” citizens in a world that needs people with these special skills.

Exchange Value

Wed, 16 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000

The exchange I’ve been part of for the past week is now over; all the people involved have gone back to their homes and I have a moment to reflect on what’s taken place. I’m tempted to put the most positive spin possible on such meetings and I do believe that much was accomplished (perhaps more than what we, as leaders of the exchange, are capable of observing); however, I’m discouraged by what is really going on.
I want things to be simple; most people seek straightforward answers to a given question. There is a barrage of information, tasks, decisions, and considerations we must deal with every day. To add levels of complexity just bogs down the process of living. This is a common human trait; it’s true of an executive working in Chicago and a street vendor in Cairo. Otherwise we, as a species, wouldn’t get much done; we’d sit about thinking about the origins of the sugar-cube in our tea and the global consequences of cane trade, etc. I would just like my tea sweet and not have to think about someone slaving away in a field.

Two from Palestine

Wed, 16 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000

This is from an interview yesterday with two youth from Palestine on the exchange. Since Sunday evening, we have been at a hostel surrounded by forest in the Netherlands, far from the turmoil we’ve been discussing all week. In parenthesis, I have made some minor language edits for clarification; my questions are italicised. Again, this is only a brief selection of a much larger discussion which was taking part this last week; I believe, at least for the Palestinians involved in this exchange, that the major accomplishment of the week was to put their story into words. They feel confined and shut off from the world’s ear; just the opportunity to quietly sit down in a neutral place and unburden themselves of their story is a major relief. I think a portion of the violence we see portrayed on the news is a result of their feeling that nobody is listening and they’ve no other way to communicate their message. Hopefully the work we’ve done this week has given them a new voice and some tools to express their situation positively.

Peace and pistachios

Wed, 09 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000

For the past several mornings, each of the participant groups in this exchange have given a country presentation. Yesterday morning, the group from Jaffa spoke of hospitality in Islamic cultures. Though I have lived in the southern United States and experienced much warm hospitality there, I have a feeling a few weeks in a Muslim country might top the capabilities of people in Georgia and South Carolina. These are people with a deep-seated understanding of how to be hosts and consider it a mark of honour to welcome and care for guests. Last evening was a Palestinian meal; afterwards was dancing (very proper, men danced with men and the women with women) and some smoking from the hookah (not me). I’m sincerely struck with the contrast between how these kind joyful people express themselves so generously while living under such bleak circumstances. When asked about this today, they said some of their gladness for the moment comes from the respite they are experiencing here in the Netherlands. “Why are there only a few police in the streets?” “Where are the checkpoints?” “What documentation must we carry?” “How is it that these people live so freely?” These are questions asked in all sincerity. When you are from a place where one can be detained for hours for not having the right stamp or a policeman can pat down any woman in the street, I’d imagine coming to a country as open as the Netherlands would be almost shocking. We have to explain that, if there is a problem, you should go to a policeman; they here to help and you’ve nothing to fear from them.

Muslim-Christian exchange Day 2

Sun, 06 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Most of today was spent at the Antwerp International Protestant Church; they welcomed us in for their morning worship and an after-church lunch. For many of the Muslim participants, this was their first time in a Christian church. The pastor was careful to explain the meaning behind each part of the service: how and why we were praying, the music, the reading of the scripture, and the purpose of the sermon.

Muslim-Christian exchange Day 1

Sat, 05 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000

“I want others to know that Islam is not a religion of terrorism.”

Dr. Corbitt asked each of the participants today to write expectations of the coming week. What do you hope to learn? What do you hope others learn about you? One of the girls wrote the above statement on her card. It may be that she has come to this place to say this one simple thing, I am not the evil that others would have me be. And indeed, on this first day, I think we can see the beginning of this proven.

Evening in Antwerp

Tue, 01 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Last night, I went into Antwerp with John and one of the interns, Cammaria. We were to check out a youth hostel for the upcoming Muslim-Christian exchange. Ironically, the hostel is next to a synagogue in the heart of Antwerp’s large Jewish neighbourhood. John approached an Orthodox man on the street and asked if our group might meet with someone from the synagogue (one day in Antwerp is dedicated to a “faith safari;” the city has an extensive religious history). John first mentioned the youth were coming from Israel; however, when he clarified that the youth are from Jaffa and East Jerusalem, the man looked a bit incredulous. He said he would contact us though; hopefully there is an opening for discussion and some civility in the midst of all that’s going on currently in and around Israel. Unfortunately, conflict is a sticky thing that clings to the feet of those who travel. No matter how far one tries to walk away, there seems to always be some vestige of it left. In 1981, in peaceful Antwerp, the Synagogue was hit by a car bomb; I’m sure the wound of that is not forgotten or completely healed. I wonder how the Jewish people living there will react to a group of Palestinians coming into their midst; I wonder what will go through the minds of the Palestinians as they walk through the middle of the Jewish town, surrounded by Orthodox Jews and billboards in Hebrew, to get to our meeting location.

Congo 2005

Wed, 26 Jul 2006 00:00:00 +0000

From an e-mail shortly after my return from The DRC in the Summer of 2005
I’m back in the States and have somewhat passed the jet-lagged
stage…at least I’m not waking up at 3:00 in the morning now!

Of course, when one returns from a trip like this, everyone either

asks for every detail or
doesn’t realize I’ve been where I’ve been and continues on as if I’ve been hidden in a closet for the past month.

I’ve thought about sitting down and writing a synopsis of my trip; however, it’s going to take some time to digest what I’ve witnessed. The people who want every detail can’t really comprehend the nature of what I’ve seen (I can’t imagine what it’s like for people coming back to a peaceful land after witnessing war…or maybe I can a bit better now). The people who don’t know I’ve been away tend to grate on my nerves; On the flight from Washington to Philadelphia, the person sitting beside me asked if I’d heard Michael Jackson got away without charges. I wanted to scream. I’d just returned from a country where more than 30,000 people are killed by violent acts each month and the world’s attention (or, pardon, America’s attention) is focused on a perverted rock star.

2003 Cuba trip

Tue, 25 Jul 2006 00:00:00 +0000

**8th February 2003, Miami 4:00 a.m.:**Miami Police break down door to my hotel room. We awake at 3:30, pack our gear, and prepare to head out for the airport; however, the deadbolt on the door will not disengage from inside. Neither can the manager open it from outside. So, with tremendous clamour, an officer of the law makes entry.

A Nation Dreamless Sleeping II

Tue, 25 Jul 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Dreamers

Dreaming everyday dreams—

Lost in mental alcoves,

Never shared never spoken

Never rising beyond orthodox sleep.

Together

Many multitudes of memories intertwined

Like wind whistling between buildings.

Something moving Chills the skin

But indistinct; en mass and lacking the distinction

Altogether felt.

Dreamers dreaming together

The blunt force of silence

Like the buzz behind background speech

From my Grandmother's house: 15 June 1999

Tue, 25 Jul 2006 00:00:00 +0000

This is from my father’s boyhood room—the same furniture and some of the same decoration it had when dad was my age. I’m sitting in an old vinyl chair that has been in this same position for as long as I can remember.
The curtains are new though. I can remember looking far off through them into the ancient (Greek?) homes depicted on the lacy tossing loosely knit folds. Street light would filter in and illuminate the stone in my imagination. Somehow, vaguely, I remember a conversation with my cousin one night as we were finding dreams before sleeping; we wondered how far away were the fabric houses. They must be somewhere. Somewhere in dreams before sleeping.

Noise

Tue, 25 Jul 2006 00:00:00 +0000

Noise, Noise, Noise, Noise.I am kept awake tonight.
Outside my open door
The inconsiderate television flares.
Its jitter crawling shadow slithers across the wall
Like a drive-in B-movie
Escaping its abandoned theater.

This society isn’t going to make it, is it?
The reservoir of our culture
Will only hold so much stagnant water
Before it overflows
Or bursts.

About

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The Edge of Somewhere is a site for long-form reflective essays by Jason Nicholas concerning a range of topics such as human ecology, spiritual inquiry, media, and the ethics of emerging technology.

I’m writing broadly from a Quaker sensibility. It is not a line of thinking that will lead to definitive answers or necessary point to an end result but rather, I hope, open up a deeper understanding of a given issue for both myself and anyone reading these words.

Search

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000